


All our souls are written in our eyes

by cenji



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, I'm tagging everyone who speaks pm, M/M, Romance, goldenchild and lovelyz appearances, some gyuyeol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenji/pseuds/cenji
Summary: Cyrano de Bergerac except woogyu(yeol), aka The Nose Fic





	All our souls are written in our eyes

The Sun hasn't yet risen when Woohyun  steps outside. The air is dewy and cold and he slaps his hands together to help wake himself up as he mounts his moped. The noise rouses Dubu, a neighbourhood dog, who bounces over and jumps up on his scooter without waiting for permission. She'll accompany him to the market. 

The route takes him first down towards the coast, where fishing boats are already out on the water, then swinging past the two swankiest hotels their island has to offer, where trees are cultivated behind stone walls to protect them from the never-ending sea breeze and high iron railings are being constantly painted in a vain effort to keep them from rusting. Dubu greets her nemesis, a Scottie who lives in the grounds of Peaceful Springs Hotel, with a ferocious Shiba yap, and they roll down to the market. Most of the hawkers are already set up when they arrive, and bleary eyed workers and highschool students move between the sheets and fold-out tables laden with produce in search of breakfast. 

The ahjummas at the market all like Woohyun well enough and it doesn't take him long to get his business done. When they start their return to his corner of the island the Sun has risen and a few buses and cars speed past them along the island's winding, rutted streets. Woohyun has in front of him on the scooter, two sacks of rice, another of flour, onions, cabbages, carrots, several bags of herbs and condiments, and on top of it all Dubu, smiling at all the passers by with her tongue lolling out. Now that he's bought what he needs, Woohyun finds himself contemplating. He's a man prone to contemplation. Sometimes it's about the passing of time; about love and how quickly it could come and go; sometimes, as today, it's about beauty. 

 

Some people, Woohyun believes, are simply un-beautiful. They are born with  a deficit. Take his grandaunt Miyeon. She was covered in pockmarks from some childhood illness and sent to a nunnery when she was young. And did she make up for her physical ugliness by cultivating a beautiful heart? Doing good deeds for the downtrodden perhaps? Did she heck. She cultivated a love for wine and a hatred for the world and everyone who dwelt upon it. She had a mouth like a dog's anus, a bulbous beer belly, and flaking, flavescent skin. She was a woman who had waited impatiently for death and, happily for her, it had taken her two summer past. 

 

On the other hand, Woohyun considers his friend Sungjong. Sungjong is beautiful. He has skin that seems unfamiliar with the concept of acne, eyes that just about literally sparkle, and a strong yet willowy body. He's both masculine and feminine and in his heart he's fiercely proud, yet kind, genuine and sympathetic. Sungjong is, objectively speaking, beautiful. 

 

However, the crux of the matter, as Woohyun sees it, is that most people are neither one nor the other. They are situationally beautiful. Conditionally attractive. Woohyun falls into this group. The situation in which he is attractive is that someone is looking at him face on. Not at an angle - not even 2 degrees off is allowable. It has to be perfectly in front of him, at which position the opposite party can appreciate his strong jaw and his soft brown eyes, his thick black hair and his toned muscles. They can be dazzled by his charm and wit. If the angle changes the slightest amount, they'll be dazzled by something else - namely, his nose. 

 

Woohyun sniffs the air and a faint aroma of coffee and fried food reaches him. Sure enough, around the next bend is the tiny sign marking the Lees' cafe on the hill.  Woohyun forces his contemplating the back of his mind in favour of breakfast. Soojung serves him a glass of tea and a mutton bun. It's dark in the cafe. It always is unless the Lees make a special effort, pinning back drapes, flinging the windows open wide and shining the glass and mirrors to a crystalline gleam. Soojung - who is in charge in the mornings whilst her parents are preparing food and tending their few animals - is disinclined to these tasks. She likes to sit in her nook, with it's rose painted walls and it's old fashioned lamp in the shape of a tulip, and read manga she's downloaded to her phone. A couple of customers sit at the long wooden tables, reading a newspaper or staring out the small square window to the sea beyond. The family photos and watercolours of flowers and fanciful farmyard scenes (these are her father's hobby) hang in the gloom, the colours muted, as if they oughtn't draw attention to themselves. This is the Lees' on the hill. Woohyun doesn't like it much in there, but Soojung sure makes a mean mutton bun. He eats sitting on the stone wall outside, while Dubu wanders off to sniff in the bushes and see what Mr. Kan's donkey is up to in the field opposite. It's a good day, clear and cool. The wind's not too strong and there's no threat of rain in the air. A ferry's coming in to port, but Woohyun pays it no heed. Locals or tourists, they'll all stop by his place eventually. 

 

Speaking of, he checks his watch and sees it's past time for getting back. He whistles for Dubu. The Shiba gives a farewell yip to her donkey friend and makes a great leap on to Woohyun's overloaded moped. Together they zip down the hill and home. 

 

***

 

The taxi that takes Sunggyu to his guest house has neither license plate nor tax disc. After they've set off, he belatedly realises that it doesn't have a metre either. The driver - a clean shaven, middle aged man with a glistening, round head and eyes like black buttons - suggests a flat fee and Sunggyu is far too sick and tired to work out if he's being ripped off or not. 

 

The ferry over was not an easy journey. Everyone had told him to take the overnight. It's much slower, but you can sleep through your seasickness. That's what they said. The liars. Sunggyu took sleeping pills, and ate lightly and drank half a glass of beer... He did everything recommended to him, but the lurching of the boat on the waves still kept him up. Even when everyone else was asleep he'd been awake, gripping the guard rails for dear life while the black sea lightly sprayed him from head to toe. The island had gradually emerged as a few gossamer lights on the horizon, strung out upon an inky speck floating on the abyss. Still all Sunggyu did was stay as rigid as possible and pray he survived the journey having neither thrown up over anyone not gotten eaten by a sea monster. .

 

He contemplates his successful avoidance of sea monsters on the ride to his guest house. The journey is a blur. Thin, winding roads. Fields a yellowish green. Terrifying donkeys baring their teeth from behind stone walls. They reach his guest house. It's a bungalow, painted white and sky blue. Wind-battered plants in gigantic ceramic pots line a cracked, concrete path. Old Miss Shim takes one look at him (crumpled clothes, eye bags, forehead beaded with feverish sweat) and knows to keep things brief, quickly sending the poor mainlander to his room. 

 

***

 

This part of the morning is Woohyun's favourite. It's quiet, only a few souls stopping by for tea and a snack. Sungjong's out front, serving them and keeping an eye on the place. All Woohyun has to do, for the most part, is make food. Pies and meatbuns, sandwiches and soups that they can serve up for the rest of the day. Sungjongie can play whatever pop he likes out front, because here in his kitchen Woohyun can barely hear it. Put another way, Woohyun can sing to his heart's content without any worries on his mind.

 

His kitchen is cramped, but Woohyun knows precisely how to get around it and where everything is kept. The single window is usually steamed up, but when it's not, there is a healing view into a field containing two cows. Occasionally, the cows come to look in on him and he'll see two pairs of huge, onyx black eyes staring in through the foggy glass.

 

Around lunch time, it always gets busy. Woohyun ventures out of his hollow to help Sungjong. After the lunch time rush, Sungjong will leave for work in the hairdresser's and Woohyun will handle things alone until Dongwoo turns up. That's the normal running of things. However, it's not yet struck noon when a commotion rudely interrupts Woohyun's rendition of an old Ha Dongkyun song. Woohyun slips out into the bar and is immediately embraced, his face squashed against a firm chest. 

 

"Namu-hyung~!" a familiar voice cheers, and Woohyun flaps his arms in excitement (and lack of oxygen).

 

"Sungyeollie!" he yells into his friend's scratchy uniform. 

 

***

 

After a few hours of staring at the ceiling and the huge, green, punpkin-shaped lampshade, Sunggyu peels himself from the bed. He still feels spacey and wobbly on his feet, but he figures nothing'll get better while he's loafing on bed. It's a sunny, fresh day - he should at least get some clean, island air. Maybe he'll even have worked up an appetite by the time he reaches the village. He finds Old Miss Shim in the garden. She's sitting on her frontdoor step, knitting needles in hand, a basket containing two massive balls of black and grey wool at her feet, and an unrecognisable expanse of knitting gathered on her lap. She frowns at him - he'd interrupted her counting stitches - but points him in the right direction and tells him the name of some cafe where he ought to get a decent lunch. 

 

The walk and the wind in his hair wake him up. He's still not hungry, but he thinks he might be when he has food in front of him. The sky is blue and full of racing white clouds. The writhing silver sea surrounds the island. The fields are emerald green in the sunlight. Even the donkeys don't look so scary now - although Sunggyu still crosses to the other side of the lane just to be safe. After some time, the fields mostly give way to streets, houses with neatly kept gardens and brightly painted shopfronts. Unfortunately, the vast majority of the shopfronts lack names. Sunggyu ends up wandering. As much as he tells himself he's sightseeing, he knows perfectly well that what he's doing is getting lost. Of course he ought to pop in somewhere and ask where that cafe Old Miss Shim mentioned is. But all she'd said was 'Namu's place by the sea' and made an odd sort of gesture around her face. Now it's belatedly occured to Sunggyu that, on a miniscule island, everywhere is by the sea. There aren't many trees though. Perhaps he should look for a tree? Sunggyu is mulling over this predicament, when he spots the most handsome man he has ever seen. 

 

He's striding over a hill, a pair of lesser beings behind him. Their uniforms look military, but what Sungyu's fatigued brain really picks up on is how this man _sparkles_ under the Sun, how his smile is easy and open, his eyes round and bright. He's tall and slim and muscular, exuding confidence and, Sunggyu decides, looks like he knows where he's heading. That being so, Sunggyu follows him. 

 

***

 

Dug into the north face of the island, facing the raging sea, you'll find soldiers running drills. The barracks has been on the island for decades. It no longer houses the hundreds of troops it used to, but it's still the economic powerhouse of the island. Without the soldiers being sent over and spending their money, life on the little rock would have become untenable long ago. Not many local boys were interested in joining themselves. Even when it came to doing their statutory service, most would rather go somewhere more 'exotic'. Lee Sungyeol had been just the same. He'd wanted to get sent as far away as possible. When he did find himself stuck on the side of a bracken covered mountain in the far north, nothing to entertain him but the miseries of the city boys and catching wild birds on fine, frigid mornings, Sungyeol had never missed his island more. 

 

"Are you telling me you're back for good?" Woohyun has yet to entirely relinquish his hold on his best friend. 

 

"At least for three years."

 

"Uwah!!" 

 

And there they go, hugging again. Sungjong quietly reaches around them to pass one of the guys who'd come with Sungyeol his order. He's cute, come to mention it, getting his number later. 'Later' like when his boss isn't on the verge of tears and blocking the counter while he hugs his bestie. 

 

Actually, Sungjong doesn't begrudge them this. True friends are important in a place like this. His boss is the sort who appears friendly and sociable when in a comfortable environment, but is, in truth, a shy and awkward kind of kid. Sungjong always enjoys chatting with the customers, whether they be locals or tourists. Woohyun, on the other hand, frequently finishes a shift on the bar looking like he's been slogging through a warzone. He has no especial reason to be shy, Sungjong thinks. Just that one. The pointy one that must not be named. Only very special people dare to look, let alone mention it. Sungyeol does both - truly a soldier. They've all finally settled at a table when he offhandedly comments, 

 

"You haven't made a veiled reference to rhinoplasty once while we've been talking. Is this a new Namu?"

 

Woohyun sighs into his ice water. Sungjong, being practised at this sort of thing, tunes him out immediately. He knows this rant. The doctor tells Woohyun surgery would only make his facial appendage outlandishly large (rather than monstrously prominent) and it's expensive and he doesn't like travelling to the mainland anyway because he gets seasick and the ferryboys laugh at him, but maybe he'll change his mind one day, but... The cute soldier's sitting up at the counter now, having come for a refill of his soda. Sungjong's trying to read him. The uniform and the shoddy skincare can't help but say 'come near me and I'll bayonet your queer arse', but the pretty way he holds his pint glass of Pepsi, that gives Sungjong a flutter of hope. 

 

"... when you look like Bert the muppet, and don't girls love the Muppets? All girls love the Muppets."

 

Oh gosh. Sungjong zoned out. The other junior Sungyeol brought is chuckling like he just told a funny joke. Well, it may well have been, but don't suggest that to Woohyun. The kid - who even with his uniform and cropped hair bears an uncanny resemblance to a water spaniel - falters, his grin fading. He gulps. 

 

"Bert, did you say?" Woohyun asks in an amiable sort of way. "I resemble Bert? In what sense, I wonder." A shiver races around the room. 

 

***

 

There is no tree. Not even a bansai. But this is definitely a catering establishment of some description and it is near-ish the shore. In any case, it's in here that Sunggyu's handsome soldier went with his juniors. 

 

When he enters, the atmosphere is a bit strange. The heavy wooden door clunks shut behind him, but his presence is hardly noticed. Even the pretty kid behind the bar merely glances at him before returning his attention to the ... What? Is it a fight? But no, it's too one-sided for that. There's a young soldier, round faced and pale skinned, sitting up so straight you could stick him in a field and use him as a sundial. He's goggling, lips slack, at a man across from him who... And here Sunggyu - tired, hungry and somewhat desperate to pee - gets a bit confused. When he first comes in, the man is more or less facing towards the door, where Sunggyu's hovering awkwardly, and Sunggyu is very much struck by how all the handsome men appear to have gathered on this rock. The one terrifying the soldier has a boyish face, eyes in a pretty soft line, full lips jutting out in a pout, a hard (if delightfully compact) body and black, wavy hair, shiny even in the dimly lit bar. These impressions all form in a split second, the split second before the man turns his head and all Sunggyu can see is the nose. The Nose. What a nose. A preponderance. A predominance. Not a point, but a perch. Not a cape, but a peninsula. When the man speaks, his voice is rich and pleasant, and Sunggyu has to shake himself to remember there is a mouth for that voice to emanate from and it is not emerging from the cavernous depths of his nostrils. 

 

"If it's not my sonorous voice, my wry humour, my felt skin, my striped shirt or my well-kept eyebrows, could it be - and I'm just clutching at straws here - but could it be my nose?"

 

The most handsome man in the world groans. Sunggyu had almost forgotten about _him_ , his head all addled by the sight of that nose. His groan had a sort of affectionate note to it, and Sunggyu wondered if this was a scene that had played out before. 

 

"Hey, I - Sir, I didn't mean any sort of  - You know, I wasn't being disrespectful or anything," the spaniel kid is apologising with big, wild gestures, leaving the impression that he meant to be offensive only a little. 

 

"Oh tush," the nose man waves away his apologies, "I'm just checking. Was I right? Was it the nose?"

 

The most handsome man in the world begins to speak, trying to diffuse some tension, but at the same moment the kid says, 

 

"Well, yeah. I mean, yes. No offence intended."

 

"No, none taken," the man assures him hurriedly, "In what sense though?"

 

"What?"

 

"In what sense does my nose resemble Bert's? Can you explain?"

 

The kid's posture finally slackens just a touch. His mouth opens and closes several times, words forming on his lips only to be swallowed down by his sense of self-preservation. Most Handsome again tries to intervene. It's no good though. Nose Man is gazing at Spaniel Kid with this dangerous smile, sharp white canines flashing. He's like a rat terrier - cute, yet liable to snap. 

 

"Well, I - I just meant your - You know. You know, Sir! I mean your nose is, well... Well... You have a big nose, Sir!" He sags in relief. His fellow soldiers suck in a breath. They all had sense not to mention the elephant on the face. 

 

"Big?" the man checks, all innocence, "You said it's big?" Clouds gather in his eyes. The two young soldiers tremble like flowers below a stormy sky. Most Handsome sighs. "Kid, what is this? I'm offended. Sungyeollie, what are you doing with these brats? You'd better take some responsibility." Most Handsome - 'Sungyeol' apparently - rolls his eyes. "Listen, Kid. My nose is in no sense 'big'. It's not big. How could you disrespect its presence by terming it," a deep, weary inhalation, " _Big_. This nose is not big, it is biblical. He gets a nose bleed, the Red Sea. A runny nose? The great flood. 

 

"Elemental. Meteorological. It influences the tides. His nostrils, safe harbour for the fishing boats. But he sneezed! A typhoon's coming! It is enviable. Imagine it - to be able to smell your own ear. To wake up in the morning and smell the coffee... in Brazil. It is fearsome. Don't stop to smell the roses, Sir, you're making them scared.

 

"Offensive. The pigs are on strike, Sir, they refuse to search for truffles until you leave! Cruel. Imagine the poor grindstone. Pornographic. Finally, a man who can satisfy two women at once. 

 

"Do you see? You were presented with this wonder of nature, Kid, and the best you could come up with was 'big'?" He spits the word. Spaniel Kid wrings his hands. 

 

"In retrospect, I'm disappointed in myself, Sir." 

 

"I would be too," Nose Man agrees, only a hint of antipathy left as he lifts his glass to his lips. 

 

"If that's cleared up," Most Ha - _Sungyeol_ drags a hand down his beautiful face, "It's about time I take these idiots back to base. You've got my new number. Text me whenever, Hyung." He smiles brightly then, hopefully, and Sunggyu notes that Most Handsome might just be Cutest as well. He skips out of the way as the soldiers tramp past him and out the door. He examines the ugly red wallpaper as they do - not wanting to be caught gazing in awe. 

 

"Oh hello, can I get you anything?" a high, male voice says. Sunggyu startles. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets to look a bit casual. The pretty barman's finally noticed him. 

 

"Yes, er, is this Namu's? Actually, first, do you have a bathroom?"

 

"Just around there," Nose Man answers, gesturing to a shadowy corner of the lounge. 

 

"Right. Thanks. Excuse me." Sungyu scurries past them, blushing horribly. 

 

***

 

"Gosh," Woohyun states, glass frozen at his lips, not taking a sip. Sungjong raises an eyebrow. 

 

"Gosh what?"

 

"Well... That," his boss explains, flapping his hand in the direction the funny looking tourist went. 

 

"Really, Hyung?" Sungjong questions, genuinely perplexed. "Sungyeol-hyung brought a pair of handsome soldiers and all you did is terrify them. But the guy with birds nest hair, wind burn and a bad case of 90s fashion comes in and you're making that kind of face?"

 

"What kind of face?" One of the soldiers would have quivered at Woohyun's sharp tone. Sungjong only grimaces. However, the Korean language is momentarily eluding him, " _That_ kind of face," he insists, wiping the counter with more force than necessary, "An... It's a - A wibbly one."

 

"Wibbly?" Woohyun gasps. But before he can refute the accusation, the cute tourist is back and he has to pretend to be normal again. 

 

"Afternoon, Sir. Would you like something to eat?" Sungjong enquires, taking the initiative as he doesn't entirely trust his boss at the moment. (It's well founded mistrust. For all he intended to act normal-tending-towards-suave, Woohyun has rapidly gotten side-tracked by the tourist rolling up the sleeves of his big, blue, stripey jumper and revealing his toned, pale forearms). 

 

"Yes, I suppose so. I'm still not feeling great after the crossing, but a person has to eat. What do you serve?"

 

Sungjong fishes out a menu. The pictures are faded and the laminate peeling. It's not something they have cause to use much - the locals already know what Namu's serves and most tourists have read about their signature dishes online and already decided what to get. Nonetheless, Woohyun is suddenly awash with shame that he has allowed so long to pass without updating it. The tourist makes his order and Woohyun merely nods before disappearing back to the kitchen to prepare it. 

 

By the time he comes out (he may have spent rather too long arranging the salad vegetables into a heart, covering the heart with lettuce out of embarrassment, then getting upset and boldly spooning the dijonnaise into a heart instead) Mrs. Roh and about a score of her extended family have come in for lunch and Sungjong is looking harried. Woohyun takes over at the counter. While it's not easy to work out the Roh family's order - for instance, who knew that, when her husband requested 'the gammy testicle looking wotsit', what he'd in fact meant was 'cheese roll' - it's absolutely worth it. The tourist is eating his toasted sandwich by the bar. And he's a cute eater - soft cheeks, and slender eyes falling shut as he savours the flavour. Woohyun has a good view, but also, taking the orders means that he is prevented from staring 100% of the time and inevitably scaring the adorable human being away. He can only stare a bit. So all is well, pretty much. Woohyun even manages to start a conversation. 

 

"So, are you here for a holiday, or?"

 

"No, research," the man says, dabbing at his lip. He notices Woohyun looking quizzically at him and explains, "Porpoises. I'm doing my PhD about them. Thankfully, the university gave me some funding to come here make observations."

 

"Oh, that sounds interesting!"

 

"Does it?" the man says. Woohyun is having to concentrate on the till at that moment, so it's hard to discern his tone. In any case, 'I think I'd be interested in anything to do with you, especially since it brought you into my place' Woohyun most certainly does not reply. 

 

"I think so," he shrugs, ringing up Mrs. Roh's granddaughter's chocolate milk tea with triple chocolate brownie and dark chocolate ice-cream drizzled with chocolate caramel sauce. "By the way, I'm Nam Woohyun. I'm the one running this place. We're open late, so come in anytime you need a chat or a bite to eat."

 

The man's eyebrows furrow alarmingly. Woohyun wonders if all that, despite sounding smooth in his head, actually came out as gobbledygook. 

 

"Nam Woo Hyun," the tourist enunciates, "Nam Woohyun. You're Namu! You're the tree!"

 

A gaggle of Rohs giggle. Woohyun flushes. Possibly realising he was louder than he'd meant to be, the tourist mumbles, "Nice to meet you, Woohyun-sshi," and shoves most of his salad into his mouth at once, face the same colour as the cherry tomatoes. 

 

"And what can I call you Porpoise Man," Woohyun teases. 

 

"Sunggyu," the man mutters after finally dealing with his salad, "Kim Sunggyu." Woohyun etches the name into his heart. 


End file.
